Timestamp: 15th of Summer, 511 AV
Malia growled. Pacing back and forth, back and forth between the table and the wardrobe next to the door, she felt trapped like a wild polar bear in a narrow place. Although she was alone, she felt like she was trapped. Panic widened her eyes, panic and, strangely enough, the fear of choking.
But she was already dead. And she hated everything associated with pulsers. She hated. Sometimes she thought her universal and strong hatred was the biggest problem, the biggest threat of the existence she had become over the past few seasons. It was so little time, yet she had changed so much. How could that be possible? How could she suddenly have such strong cravings and not choke from them?
Of course, it was all Uldr’s fault. All Uldr’s fault. And the worst thing was that Malia had asked for it herself. But such thoughts were useless and only tormented her more, so she forced them away.
Sitting on the bed and scribbling useless sketches and impossible ideas in her journal, Malia found her mind wander. While her hands continued moving and her physical self continued with the task of dreaming up new experiments, her mind wandered far, far away to a place she wasn’t even sure she fully knew herself. However, she did realize that a voice was calling out to her. It was crystal-clear and ethereal. It whispered instructions in her ears, and the hatred festering inside her was cooled down by its presence and sound.
Now she knew what she had to do. Abandoning the pencil and journal on the bed, she exited her room and went to the kitchen area. Nobody paid attention to her, so she snatched one of the empty milk glasses out of a box and walked outside. The barracks resonated with the cries of training polar bear Kelvics. However, Malia didn’t mind them. She kneeled down in the snow and filled the glass with cold white substance. It didn’t melt as her fingers radiated no warmth. With the snow-filled glass she went back inside.
However, it started to trickle and form a puddle in the glass as soon as it stood on the windowsill made of icestone. Soon the glass would contain water. And the water would be infused by the light of the stars the following night and would turn blue.
That was Tanroa’s way. Malia sat in front of the windowsill on the rug covering the floor and watched. Finally, after being restless for as long as Stitch had been gone, she felt a vague sense of peace welling up inside her undead heart.
But she was already dead. And she hated everything associated with pulsers. She hated. Sometimes she thought her universal and strong hatred was the biggest problem, the biggest threat of the existence she had become over the past few seasons. It was so little time, yet she had changed so much. How could that be possible? How could she suddenly have such strong cravings and not choke from them?
Of course, it was all Uldr’s fault. All Uldr’s fault. And the worst thing was that Malia had asked for it herself. But such thoughts were useless and only tormented her more, so she forced them away.
Sitting on the bed and scribbling useless sketches and impossible ideas in her journal, Malia found her mind wander. While her hands continued moving and her physical self continued with the task of dreaming up new experiments, her mind wandered far, far away to a place she wasn’t even sure she fully knew herself. However, she did realize that a voice was calling out to her. It was crystal-clear and ethereal. It whispered instructions in her ears, and the hatred festering inside her was cooled down by its presence and sound.
Now she knew what she had to do. Abandoning the pencil and journal on the bed, she exited her room and went to the kitchen area. Nobody paid attention to her, so she snatched one of the empty milk glasses out of a box and walked outside. The barracks resonated with the cries of training polar bear Kelvics. However, Malia didn’t mind them. She kneeled down in the snow and filled the glass with cold white substance. It didn’t melt as her fingers radiated no warmth. With the snow-filled glass she went back inside.
However, it started to trickle and form a puddle in the glass as soon as it stood on the windowsill made of icestone. Soon the glass would contain water. And the water would be infused by the light of the stars the following night and would turn blue.
That was Tanroa’s way. Malia sat in front of the windowsill on the rug covering the floor and watched. Finally, after being restless for as long as Stitch had been gone, she felt a vague sense of peace welling up inside her undead heart.
